Delicate
by iknowyoutriedtotellme
Summary: Isn't it?
1. Chapter 1

Miranda knew she only had herself to blame. This, however, did not soothe her growing amount of self-irritation. As she opened and closed her phone for what had to be the twentieth time in the last half hour she struggled to resist the urge to throw it across the room.

Opening the phone once again, the Editor stared at the single line of words. She surmised it wasn't so much the words that were the problem as it was whom they were directed at. Her frustration grew.

She sighed upon noticing the time - it was late. A decision needed to be made quickly or the intended recipient would not be able meet her - she knew they had a flight the following morning.

Miranda bit the inside of her lip and pressed send. She nervously ground the inside of her lips between her teeth, waiting with baited breath for a response. Not receiving one immediately, she put the phone down on her desk and rose from her seat.

Miranda paused briefly as she stood up. She stared out the glass paneling toward the front of her office. Her gaze rested on the desk that resided in the reception area. It now belonged to someone else, she couldn't remember the girl's name, but it didn't matter – it would always be her desk.

The woman's thoughts were interrupted by the ding of her phone. Without her consent, her heart started to beat faster. She opened her phone, read the message, and smiled.

Gathering her bag and coat she sent her driver a message indicating she was ready to leave and then responded to the other woman's text. She was very pleased, probably too pleased, that the woman had agreed to "make her a drink". The saying had become a "thing" between the two of them. She sent off the location she intended to meet the other woman at and hurried her way to the elevator. For once, she had no intention of being fashionable late.


	2. Chapter 2

Laying on her new bed Andy stared up at the ceiling. She liked this new place. There was something about the West Side that just felt more homey. She was failing miserably at trying to fall asleep. She knew she could not miss her flight back to San Francisco in the morning, but that seemed to make little difference. Suddenly, her phone light up the darkness of the room. Reaching over to the nightstand she grabbed the phone off it.

The writer was unable to contain the grin that spread over her face when she saw the message. She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. This was undoubtedly a mistake. She knew she shouldn't go out; but she also knew she wouldn't or more accurately couldn't say no to her. If she were honest with herself, she'd never been, nor would ever be, capable of denying that woman anything she so desired.

Scrambling to get dressed, the Andy threw on random pieces of clothing. She hesitated slightly before throwing on sneakers. She knew the woman waiting for her would be none too pleased with her ensemble, but she would have to deal – it was nearly one in the morning. Andrea requested a ride and ran out the door.

The brunette tapped the arm rest on the side of the car door and stared out the window watching the cityscape go by. They'd been playing this game for months now. It started when they both attended a luncheon in the Village. Miranda was in the middle of her fourth divorce and Andy had just landed a new job in a news media startup company. As a result, she split her time between San Francisco and Manhattan.

Neither had spoken a word to the other in over five years. Andy couldn't help but chuckle to herself at the memory.

She had made a point of avoiding the Editor the entire event. As she waited for the attendant to get her coat, she had thought she was successful in her endeavor – after all Miranda Priestly never retrieved her own coat. She offered the coat attendant a smile and thanked him as he handed over her coat. Before she could even put the thing on, it happened.

Miranda's unique fragrance filled the small room, Andy could feel her steel blue eyes on her, souring every line and curve. She'd never been more grateful for not finishing last night's pint of Ben & Jerry's in her life. The Editor cleared her throat and Andrea cringed, she knew she had to turn around. Dread filled her. She turned to come face to face with her former boss. Before an incoherent ramble could escape her lips, Miranda sniffed and spoke, "The food, should you call it that, has been is deplorable. I believe a proper meal is overdue." Andrea remained frozen, but to her credit nodded and did not let out the squeak that was rapidly building in her throat. "Do hurry up then," Miranda drawled. As fast as she appeared, she was gone.


End file.
